


Flower Fairy

by Oceanwhirl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 1960s, F/M, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, How Nikolai Met Yuri's Grandma, Mentions of Yuri/other male character, Mutual Pining, Original character Lydia - Yuri's Grandma, Sad Ending, Shoemaker Nikolai, Somehow it's both, Teenage Nikolai, could be Otabek, it's up to you, or JJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanwhirl/pseuds/Oceanwhirl
Summary: “Since when do you comb your hair for work?”, his mother asked when he came down to the kitchen the next morning. “And what's with that nice shirt? Are you going out?”Nikolai hummed, but didn't answer. He was self-conscious enough how it was, he didn't need his mother to point out he was inappropriately overdressed. He did want to make a good impression once in his life though.His father smiled into the newspaper. “Lydia, hm?” No one answered him but Nikolai’s blush and his mother's grin spoke louder than words.~*~Nikolai is a shy 18 year old Russian boy and Lydia is way too bright and happy and cheerful and gorgeous for him. He likes to think of her as a fairy because that’s just what she is to him. Or: What happened when I thought about how Nikolai must have been a really handsome guy back in the 60s ^^





	Flower Fairy

**Author's Note:**

> People on twitter are probably expecting this, because I have been thinking/tweeting about this story for some time now. XD I modeled Lydia after Brigitte Bardot btw.

 

The sound of the doorbell made Nikolai look up from the yarn he was rolling into the spool with the dark, heavy sewing machine. It was hard to hear the bell ringing over the noise of the machine but he had gotten used to noticing the little tinkling even over the mechanical noise by now. That's what being the shoemaker's son did to you. 

“Welcome” his father in the store front said and Nikolai was about to get back to work now that he knew his father was handling the customers when he heard the cheerful voices of  _ them _ answering “Good evening!” Craning his neck he tried to steal a glance at the front of the shop although he already knew who had entered.

It wasn't that the group of five girls around his age came to the shoemaker's shop very often, but they came regularly enough for Nikolai to recognize their voices by now. They also showed up rarely enough that he couldn't just let the chance pass and not have a look at them. Biting his lower lip he got up from the chair and took the spools he had finished already, eight or nine in total, to take them over to the shelf, passing by the door that led to the shop to do so.

“Danced them to pieces again already?”, his father asked and the girls chuckled, looking over to the open door when Nikolai came into view with only a nod of his head. 

“My sister lent them”, one of the girls said and handed the petite brown leather shoes over the counter. 

“I see, I see”, his father said and turned to Nikolai who was putting the spools up on the shelf. “Kolya, come and have a look.”

Wordless Nikolai came over, trying not to look at the girls who had assembled like a swarm of butterflies. The redhead was there and the two sisters and the blond one and  _ she _ . He couldn't avoid throwing her a glance, looking away again as fast as possible. Today she wore her long ash blond hair in a twisted braid that was draped around the back of her head, some wavy strands escaping the braid and hanging loosely around her neck, the bangs combed to the side to leave her blue eyes shimmering in the too dim light of the shop. She had only recently cut the bangs, he could tell from how straight the ends were. 

“Think you can do that?”, his father asked, turning the pair of shoes so he could see where the thread had broken and the sole loosened from the leather. “Sure”, he said with a shrug. It'd be so easy to fix that. He looked up at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that could have become a smile if he wasn't that shy and turned to go to the back room sitting down at the sewing machine once more. The rattling of the machine finishing the spool he had been working on drowned the poorly suppressed chuckling of the girls. A light tinkle, like a small spoon in a small cup of tea.

When working Nikolai usually forgot everything around him. Not that it had been his dream to step in his father's literal shoes and learn the craftsmanship of making and fixing shoes, but it was honest work and at the end of the day he knew what he had done all day long. It wasn't as artsy as what Ivan did, his best friend who played piano in a pretty little restaurant downtown and not as shady as what Dima did, gambling and selling stolen goods whenever he needed money just to spend it all on booze in the end. It wasn't lucrative like Alexey’s job at the newspaper or as honorable as Sergej’s profession as a pedestrian in training. It was hard and sometimes boring and he wouldn't make a fortune with it, even after he one day would take over the shop when his father retired, but he was good at it and he could live from it. And when he could make people happy with his work it was enough for him. 

The left shoe had a broken seam on the inside and Nikolai suspected that in was from tapping to the side too often. He removed the old thread and took out his tools and within minutes the shoe was as good as new again. He let his fingers run over the leather with a smile. The shoes were so small, almost like children's shoes, but she was dainty so it made sense. He imagined what she looked like dancing, her little feet flying on the parquet, the long, fluffy red dress fluttering like poppy petals, her bangs disheveled from the pirouettes. He thought that her cheeks would be flushed from excitement and her eyes glittering. She must be so pretty when she danced until the threads broke. She was so pretty already when she merely stood there.

Nikolai gave the shoes a look over then got up and returned to the storefront again. His father busied himself with the laces on display so Nikolai went over to the counter to where the girls were chatting, looking up when he approached them. Wordlessly he held the shoes out and she took them, her cheeks a soft pink. 

“Thank you”, she said, her friends watching like owls. “How much…?”

Nikolai shrugged, pushing his fists into his pockets. “It's alright.”

His father turned around, one eyebrow rising in amusement, but didn't say anything. 

“Really?”, she asked flustered and again Nikolai shrugged.

“Wasn't much effort”, he said, then turned away, because it really hadn't been and also because he felt his ears getting red. 

“You should go out with us one day”, the red-haired called after him, earning a shocked, hissed “Anya!!” but he didn't answer, pretending he hadn't heard it. Like he would ever spend more time in their presence than absolutely necessary. In  _ her _ presence… 

Of course his father told his mother over dinner that day how Nikolai had treated the girl to a new seam.

“And he used the good thread, too”, he said with a wink and his mother chuckled when Nikolai defended himself: “Of course. That's dancing shoes. I wouldn't want her to come back again next week because the seam broke again!”

“Oh”, his father grinned. “Is that so?”

 

She came the next week nevertheless. This time she brought only the blond girl as company and a pair of black shoes, just as tiny as her dancing shoes. The sole was battered, one even had a hole. 

“I'll finish them by tomorrow”, Nikolai said, knowing he'd not waste a minute before starting to work on them. She smiled. Her blush went so nice with the light green dress she wore. 

“That's quick”, the blond noted and Nikolai shrugged. It was true, but he didn't feel like explaining why he'd hurry. 

“I'm Galina, by the way. This is Lydia”, the blond said with a smile but Nikolai could not pay attention to her, watching the light pink flush coloring Lydia’s cheeks. “Your name's Kolya, right?”

Now he did look over to her. “Nikolai Yurevich.” 

“Oh”, she said, taken aback. Maybe it had been a little rude to correct her to the more formal naming but he didn't want her to have any ideas. Nor make her think that he was in any way interested in her. 

With a twitch of his lips he looked to Lydia again. “See you tomorrow then.” Blushing and nodding she dragged Galina out of the shop by the hand.

 

“Since when do you comb your hair for work?”, his mother asked when he came down to the kitchen the next morning. “And what's with that nice shirt? Are you going out?” 

Nikolai hummed, but didn't answer. He was self-conscious enough how it was, he didn't need his mother to point out he was inappropriately overdressed. He did want to make a good impression once in his life though.

His father smiled into the newspaper. “Lydia, hm?” No one answered him but Nikolai’s blush and his mother's grin spoke louder than words.

 

He hadn't told her an exact time to come pick up the shoes, so every time the doorbell rang he looked up in expectation. She came to the shop in the early afternoon just when his father had left for the bank and this time she was all by herself. Her white blouse and brown skirt made her look like a chocolate cake with clotted cream and it made her look so sweet. He suppressed a smile when he went to the storefront, abandoning the shoe strip he had been working on.

“Good afternoon”, he said and when her high ponytail bobbed to one side then the other when she tilted her head and returned the greeting he couldn't hold back the smile anymore. She was just so pretty. 

“I fixed the insole, too”, he said, putting the shoes on the counter. “I used calfskin. It's… comfortable.” He pushed his fists into his pockets. “You should try them on. If there's something not right I could change it right away.”

“Thank you”, she said and when he gestured to the chair in the corner sat down, untying the ankle boots she wore.

“Here, let me…”, Nikolai murmured setting the fixed shoes down next to her feet and holding her ankle gently pulled the boots from her tiny right foot, then did the same with the left. It was bold, he knew that but she didn't stop him. Her slender ankle felt so fragile in his hand even through the thin fabric of her hosiery. She had pretty legs and pretty ankles and also pretty feet. He didn't let his thumb run over the curve of her heel although he really wanted to. Trying to keep up a professional facade he slipped the black shoes over her feet and tied the laces thoroughly. Then he gestured for her to stand up and walk a little. “How is it?”

She twirled around with the brightest smile, her skirt swinging. This must be what she looked like dancing he thought, looking up to her from still crouching.

“It's splendid!”, she exclaimed. “Thank you, I'm so happy. Those are my favourites!” She laughed, high and clear like a chime and Nikolai fell in love with her.

“You realize that now”, his father asked when Nikolai told him in the evening, sounding surprised. “I thought you liked her from the beginning.”

“Isn't that why you combed your hair back?“, his mother added, putting her fork down. 

Nikolai hummed and stuffed his mouth with potatoes so that he didn't have to answer. Maybe he had liked her, sure, but this was different now. She had never looked at him like that. Not with her friends around. She had never before looked so happy. He wanted her to smile like this all the time. He wanted to make her smile like that. 

“You should ask her out next time”, his father said and Nikolai shoveled more potatoes in his mouth.

 

She didn't show up for some time. It made sense though, her shoes were in flawless condition now and it would take some time for her to break the seams and wear down the soles. It disappointed Nikolai a little but he got used to it. She'd probably come back in autumn when the soles of her boots needed to be fixed before winter came back to Moscow. He could wait until then. It was okay. Until then he could just work on strips and leather parts and fix the shoes for Sergej Vladimirevich, the baker, and old Miss Nakipova or Alexey when he had those interviews with important and influential people to make. He'd work Monday to Saturday and sometimes on Sundays, too, not even combing his hair unless he went out to meet with his friends and sometimes not even then. Most of the time he'd just wear a hat and not bother with his chic clothing much. When he'd hang out at Ivan’s house the only female around was Ivan's old Mama anyway, it was fine as long as his clothes were clean.

Just that this Saturday afternoon Nikolai saw  _ her _ again. The streetcar just went off when he saw her hurrying around the corner, a bundle of thick folders wrapped in brown paper and packet string, her dress a bright yellow and her cheeks pink. When she saw the streetcar already running her eyes widened and she sped up but there was no chance she could catch up. Without second thought Nikolai headed over to the open entrance and jumped from the accelerating car, ignoring the surprised yelp of the old lady by the door. He had paid for his ticket already but be couldn't just stay on the car and go to meet with his friends. Not when she looked as pretty as a sunflower fairy.

The bundle she carried looked heavy, both her slender arms wrapped around the package and she had given up on following the streetcar, coming to a halt with flushed cheeks. She didn't seem to notice Nikolai until he came jogging towards her, stopping a few meters away.

“Good evening”, he said and for a second she seemed irritated, then recognition lit up her sky blue eyes.

“Oh, hello!”, she greeted him, smiling as brightly as ever.

“You missed the tram?”, he gestured to the disappearing streetcar.

“Oh, yes, it's a pity, I have to deliver those papers, I volunteered to take them over to the other office, but I didn't make it in time.” 

“The next one leaves in half an hour?”, Nikolai recalled.

She nodded. “It's probably faster if I walk there. It's only two stops.”

“Maybe I could help you carry them.”

The sentence hovered between them for a moment, like she pondered if he would steal them or what his intention was, but then she smiled. “It'd be nice to have some company actually.”

Without further ado Nikolai took the bundle from her arms. “You lead the way.”

“Thank you”, she murmured, and Nikolai walked besides her.

“How’re the insoles”, he asked when noticing that she wore the shoes he had recently repaired and she looked over to him happily. 

“Just wonderful, better than when I initially got them to be honest.” There was a spring to her steps that made her dress bob prettily. “I got them when I started working in the office. After I received my first paycheck my mother insisted that I rewarded myself. I think they are so pretty. And now I can finally wear them again. Thanks to you.”

Nikolai hummed. “They look nice on you”, he eventually agreed. “They compliment your slender legs and little ankles.”

She laughed, tilting her head, the thick braid falling over her shoulder. “That sounds like a genuine shoemaker's compliment.” 

“I am a shoemaker”, Nikolai deadpanned and it only made her laugh again. 

“I know. Nikolai Yurevich, the shoemaker.”

Nikolai looked ahead. “Kolya’s fine.”

She made a surprised sound like a little bird, and then she was walking right next to him, much closer than before and she stayed that close until they arrived at the office where she had to drop off the documents. 

“You don't have to wait for me here”, she said, taking the stack of files back.

Nikolai shrugged. “It's fine. I can wait if you want me to. I will leave if you want me to.”

She looked at him with shimmering eyes. “If you'd walk me home… I would like that, I think.”

Hands in his pockets Nikolai nodded. “I'll walk you home then.”

She didn't take long, just handing in the papers at the front desk. Time enough for Nikolai to try and get his hair in order, frowning at his reflection in a windowpane. It was futile though, his thick blond stands had a will on their own, so he just combed through the chin long mess with his fingers and put the hat back on. At least his grey slacks and white shirt were more or less clean, he had changed before he had left for Ivan's because he knew his mother liked it when he didn't show up in his working clothes, all smeared with shoe polish and glue. There was a stain on one of his suspenders and he tried to rub it away but gave it up when Lydia emerged from the building again.

“Thank you”, she tweeted and wrapped her little arms around his right arm. “For waiting.”

Nikolai hummed, looking away, and hoped she didn't notice his ears and cheeks reddening. 

“I hope I don't keep you away from your business.” She chattered on as nonchalantly as if she didn't cling to the arm of practically a stranger. She acted like they were old friends. More than friends even, maybe. “You certainly didn't plan on helping random girls carry their documents around. Like ‘ _ It’s Saturday, I think I'll walk around a little and see if there isn't some paper to be delivered _ ’, right? That's not a plan you make usually.”

“I was on my way to a friend's house“, Nikolai answered, then hastily added: “Nothing important, though.”

“Oh, I didn't want to keep you away from him”, she looked up at him apologetically. 

“It's fine, really”, he objected. “I'd rather spend time with you.” He realized what he had just said a little too late and was glad that she just smiled brightly but didn't comment on that.

Her place was a 30 minute-walk from the office where she had dropped off the papers and all the way she didn't let go of his arm. She chattered all the time and Nikolai learned that she had two older sisters and a younger brother who was a builder and that she was indeed a year older than Nikolai, that her birthday was on the first of December and that she wanted to keep working even after she was married, unlike her sisters. Her favourite music was chansons but she liked basically anything you could dance to. She played the harmonica a little and was overjoyed when Nikolai said that his best friend was a piano player. 

“You have to introduce me to him. Maybe we could play together!”, she said cheerful. Nikolai felt his heart beat faster when he realized that that meant that she wanted to see him again.

He hummed and nodded. 

When they arrived at the house, a two stories high building with two apartments, she turned around to look at him, finally letting go of his arm. Instead she grabbed his hands and held them firmly. “Thank you for walking me home”, she said. “You know, maybe you should go out with me and my friends. There's a dance next Tuesday, you could tag along.”

“Oh, I…”, he hesitated, “I don't dance, actually. I don't know how to, I… well…”

“That's not a problem, I can teach you!”, she laughed. “I can pick you up after work and you could wear that nice shirt you wore last time.” Nikolai didn't even have a chance to answer when she just got up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you on Tuesday then.” She turned around with a chuckle as sweet as honey and danced away, bright yellow like the pretty little sunflower fairy she was. Nikolai looked after her and when she arrived at the entrance the door was open and a guy, around his age, stared at him. Her brother most likely. Nikolai didn't even return the stare, but watched as she said something to him and pushed him inside with a slender hand. When she turned around and waved at him he smiled and waved back, before turning away.

 

Ivan played the piano when they married.

 

The boys wore those bright colored basketball shoes nowadays, American ones. Nikolai didn't like them but he hadn't had a say in this issue for some years now. The pants were too tight and rolled up and the socks were so short he could see Yuri's white ankles even in winter. White with yellow and purple and greenish bruises. He had the green Plisetsky eyes and the gold blond hair Nikolai had had as a teenager himself. But the ivory skin and the fragile bone structure was that of Lydia, his little flower fairy who had brought the elegance and grace into the bloodline. The bright smiles and the dance. Whenever Nikolai saw Yuri move, not only skate but just come running towards him or even sit still, it was like he was watching Lydia again and Pjotr, Yuri's father, and it made his insides feel warm.

“He's really nice”, Yuri said. “You'll like him, Grampa, he's a little like you.” He chuckled and Nikolai hummed. 

And Yuri was right, his friend was nice. He was friendly and honest, and he cared for Yuri so much. He looked at Yuri with a faint smile and Nikolai knew that he was a good boy because Yuri looked at him with the same shimmer in his eyes Lydia had looked at Nikolai with. And seeing his grandson so happy again made something in Nikolai’s chest blossom.

 

“I really wanted to see you”, his Lydoshka had said, her tiny crinkled hand in his and her face older but still so beautiful from the shine of her smile. “So I cheated a little and asked my sisters to wear my shoes when they went dancing. I asked them to wear them until the seams broke, so I could take them back to the shoemaker's shop, hoping the shoemaker's handsome son would be there. He used to look out from the back room. And Galina and Anya and Nonna and Katyusha said he looked at me all the time.”

Nikolai held her hand as she smiled at him from the white sheets of the bed and she smiled at him forever, even when he kissed her goodbye and his tears fell onto her cheeks and then he closed her eyes with trembling fingers. He didn't have the chance to tell her that he loved her, but he didn't need to; she had known all along. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line if you liked this, and also if you didn't ^^


End file.
